Real Gangsters have been known to scream behind...THE WALL
Barnes & Noble.com
LaCarey Entertainment, LLC
Imagine you are Sherman and you were transferred from THE HILL to a prison more dangerous and deadly. Eveywhere you look the sinister stares of killers watch your every move. They await for any mistake. Every sound and feeling in your body has you on full alert. Your adrenaline never rest. You're jumpy, You're scared and you've been stabbed before by a close friend. You finally have a chance to possibly go home when a prison war and an old enemy threatens your freedom. You can either die with a knife in you or you can live by putting one in somebody else. The choice is yours...
Lighting crackles behind the grey sky. The wind pushes dust through the barbed wire fence that keeps some of DC’s deadliest prisoners trapped inside of Lorton. Rehabilitation is almost impossible. A prisoner is more likely to become a killer than a bad guy becoming good. Death happens often. A murder is taking place right now as the thunder shields the screams of the victim. Welcome to THE HILL. The only place scarier than THE HILL is THE WALL.
“Take a deep breath for me,” Dr. Lee tells Sherman while holding his stethoscope against Sherman’s bare back, as he listens to his lungs. Sherman is seated on the examining table wearing his institutional light blue khakis and boots. A visibly thick and long scar extends from the bottom left side of his spine to his left shoulder blade. The mark is a reminder from the vicious stabbing by John that left him flatlined.
“Everything sounds good,” Dr. Lee says.
“Yea? What’s causing the seizures? I never used to have them.” Sherman asked with concern.
“Hmm. Your body has experienced serious trauma from that stabbing. Remember your heart was punctured, your left lung collapsed, and you had a lot of tissue damage. You’re lucky you survived. It’ll take some time before your body feels any normalcy, if at all”.
“What kind of damn answer is that?” Sherman snapped.
Dr. Lee glances over to Officer Dexter leaning on the back wall. Sherman glares at Dexter as he walks toward them.
“Mr. Ford, the language isn’t necessary,” said Dexter.
“That answer is the best I can provide. I can prescribe medication to help prevent them. I offered this to you at least a dozen times before. Would you like something?” Dr. Lee replied.
“No!” Sherman shot back. “I don’t want any drugs in me”.
Dr. Lee smirks sympathetically.
“Why can’t ya send me to a specialist since you don’t know the answer to why or how this shit can be stopped?” Sherman snapped.
“A specialist wouldn’t be able to provide you any more information than I have already given you,” replied Dr. Lee.
With handcuffs on his wrist and shackles on his ankles, Sherman grunts as he eases off of the table, grabbing his shirt beside him. “Ya just don’t want to spend the money. Ya rather I died, but I ain’t going no damn where but to the streets. I’m ready to go.” Sherman barks as he looks at Officer Dexter, showing him the cuffs. “Can you remove these so I can put my shirt on?”
Dexter raises his walkie talkie to his mouth, “Jackson, Ford is ready.”
“So, can you give me a medical clearance to return to population?” Sherman asked in a calmer voice.
“I don’t see why not, “ Dr. Lee responded as muscle bound, baldheaded Sergeant Jackson walked into the room.
“Ford, back against the wall, “ Sergeant Jackson barked.
Sherman sighs and does as he is told.
Ten minutes later Sherman is back inside the administrative segregation unit known as “THE HOLE”. He is standing on the tier with his palms on the wall outside of his cell door as Officer Dexter unshackles his ankles.
Sergeant Jackson is standing a few feet away daringly watching the back of Sherman. After Officer Dexter removes the last shackle, he takes a few steps back from Sherman and retrieves his walkie talkie. He speaks into his walkie talkie, “ Open cell 111”.
Sherman turns around and faces Jackson as the cell opens. “Bye-Bye, little jail birdie,” Sergeant Jackson says.
Sherman walks into the door as it closes. He throws his arms in the air in disbelief as he sees his tiny cell in shambles with his belongings.
“Ay, Sherman! Ay, Sherman!” Rakeys shouted through the vent above Sherman’s toilet. Rakeys is in the cell next door.
“What?!” Sherman shouts as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“They shook your cell down, Champ!” Rakeys replied.
“I can see that!” Sherman said with a bewildered look on his face.
“Did they find anything? If they did, we can beat that! I already got twenty five dudes off of these fake ass jailhouse beefs and four dudes are on the street now because “I” got their sentences thrown out! Let me know if you need my services!” Rakeys asked.
Sherman is pulling his pants down. There is a six inch shank tied to his inner thigh by strips of a bed sheet. “Naw. I’m good,” he says as he grabs one of the ends of the bare plastic mattress dangling off the metal slab that is supposedly the box spring. With a hard push, he shoves the mattress back on the metal slab. He unties the knife and slips it into his hiding place inside of the mattress. He then snatches the sheet from the concrete floor and lays it across the bed.
Sherman sighs as he sits down on the mattress. He looks around at his scattered belongings. He grabs a photograph that is face down on the floor. He brushes the dirt off of it with his index finger as a faint smile surfaces and quickly disappears.
“Hey Ladies,” he says to the professional picture of Ella and Loretta. Ella is medium height with a smooth deep dark complexion. She has an hour glass figure with large eyes that match her smile. Loretta is her seven year old mini-me. They are on their knees kissing opposite sides of the ears of a large red teddy bear with a t-shirt on that says, “The World’s #1 Dad!”
The slot in the door is unlocked. It slams against the metal door as it opens. “Mail,” a male guard’s voice shouts from outside the door. Sherman jumps up and grabs three pieces of mail as it appears in the slot. The slot then slams shut.
He smiles as he shuffles through two card size envelopes and a thicker business size envelope. He picks up a tube of toothpaste from the floor beside the toilet, and plops down on the mattress. He sets the envelopes down and unscrews the top of the toothpaste. One dot of toothpaste is placed on his index-finger five separate times, pressing each dot of toothpaste onto the back of the picture. The last dot went in the center. He then presses the picture at the top end of the wall just above the mattress, making the picture stick to the wall like glue. Sherman opens one of the cards. Four pictures of Ella and Loretta fall out onto the mattress. He scans them and reads the front of the card. The front of the card reads: Thinking of you. The inside is handwritten and reads as follow:
“Sherman, I have never known a love more deeper than the one we have. I rarely feel alone even though you have been gone for almost six years now. When loneliness sets in, I either read one of your letters or grab hold of Loretta. You are so blessed.
I don’t know if you are aware of how rare you are. You are a man who is capable of such great passion, ambition, and leadership. This is a minor setback for you. You will continue to do amazing things. I just don’t want you to ever feel that going to prison makes you a damaged man. I know you don’t think like that, but if you ever question your worth, look to me and I will always show you your beauty. I love you with every fiber of my soul. I am so honored you chose me to walk this journey of life with. I will hold your hand until our fingers return to the God we came from. I love you. Your daughter loves you. I’m going to end now. Please don’t be mad. I know you just received a six page letter that I wrote, on back and front, and sent yesterday with a card from your daughter. I love you, Sexy. Ella.”
He sighs, smiles, and shakes his head. He then smells the card before grabbing the business size envelopes. He opens the envelope as he lies back on the bed underneath the picture on the wall. He reads the rest of his mail before falling off to sleep.
It’s 5:00am. Sherman swiftly rolls out of the bed into an attack stance from his deep sleep as his cell door opens with a vibrating metal sound. He stares at the opening door, ready to fight. Sergeant Jackson fills the doorway. Two other guards are standing behind him. Other guards can be seen walking pass the cell toward other cells.
“What in the hell have you done to this cell?” Jackson barks as he signals toward the ransacked cell.
“Ya did that when ya shook down my cell yesterday, “ Sherman replied.
“Trifling. Pack up! You’re being sent to lovers lane,” Jackson said humorously.
“What?” Sherman questioned.
“You’re being transferred to The Wall. I’ll be back in five minutes,” Jackson replied.
The guards step out the cell. The door closes. Sherman relaxes.
“Hey, Sherman! You aight over there?” Rakeys shouts through the vent.
“They sending me to The Wall,” Sherman shouted back as he begins to untie his sheet and starts putting his belongings inside of the sheet.
“Damn!! Look, Sherman, I heard that spot is vicious! They be trying to get motherfuckers pregnant over there! Watch your back!” Rakeys says with concern.
Sherman can hear some banging on Rakeys door.
“Get your ass off that toilet before I pop your cell,” Sergeant Jackson barks.
“You better bring a motherfucking army with you! Ain’t nothing but a gangster in here,” Rakeys shouts.